The man beside me, large and round,
Can’t help but crowd my space.
A two-year-old behind my seat
Kicks at a frantic pace.
The air is full of 9A’s sneeze,
But I’m afraid to ask,
The girl across the aisle from me
To spare an extra mask.
With pretzels stale and cat-piss ale
The business men grow rowdy,
While flight attendants gauge the risk
Of breaking up the party.
At 30,000 feet we cruise
This petri dish with wings,
What hurtling through a turbulent wind
Will destinations bring?
The miserable won’t crack a grin
They loathe a smiling face,
But I can’t help but stretch mine wide,
This is my favorite place.
~ Leana Delle
Sunday, February 10, 2019
Number five of fifty-two in My Year of Sunday Poems challenge.